


made of ivory (not a weapon, are you?)

by lavenderlow



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: HEAVY THEMES of suicide and mental illness, He just needs love, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, Lots of Crying, M/M, and CARING!!!, be warned, intense emotions...get ready, jonathan being ...babey, jonathan being helpless, lots of pain, steve being so fucking LOVING!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 11:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18809923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlow/pseuds/lavenderlow
Summary: a continuation of "oh my angel, my darling"jonathan never could work himself up that friday night.





	made of ivory (not a weapon, are you?)

**Author's Note:**

> *TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND LOTS OF OTHER SUICIDAL/DEPRESSED THEMES. BE WARNED*
> 
> lots of people wanted a continuation of "oh my angel, my darling" and i felt the need to write some emotionally heavy stonathan before summer starts so i can hopefully get myself back into writing for this ship! i've missed it a lot. PLEASE read the first part before going into this, it will make much more sense!
> 
> title is from "the whale" by years and years

It was so, so cold.

Jonathan stood on the edge of the bridge from Hawkins to the next town over. Of course, he planned this night to be on one where there was a storm coming in, from the east, one of the gnarly ones -- he could see the lightning over the horizon of tall pine trees and the stars that managed to slip through the clouds. It was easily under forty, given it was the tail-end of November. Wind whipped at his hair, which was grown out past his ears, now, the way Steve said he liked it --

Steve. Oh, Steve. He can't even think of his name without tears coming to his eyes. He could feel his hands tremble just a little bit more as he hung off the edge, feet planted on the wrong side of the railing, hands held on tight behind him -- it would be so easy to just let go.  _So,_ so easy. He watched as a tear fell out of the inner corner of his eye, into the river below him, spearheading into the wind that was picking up. Simple as that.

Steve said he needed a  _break._ A break from what? The day before was like every other day, in Jonathan's mind, or maybe he was just so  _fucking_ deranged that his memories were getting warped in his head and he completely made up Steve telling him he loved him in the backseat of his  _damn_ BMW with his  _stupid fucking hair_ in his face and those  _goddamn_ silver rings on his fingers that he loved to play with -- maybe he never said that he'd die for him. Maybe he never said that he would give up his father's business, give up going to college, give up his fucking mansion that he lived in just to be with him. It was easier to think that he was going crazy than Steve had lied.

He would never lie.

"God-" He whimpered, into the stinging air around him, quiet enough that he couldn't even hear himself over the sound of the wind. "Jesus  _fucking_ Christ, I'm a dumbass," he continued, wanting to scream it all out and lose his voice before he lost something worse. He could feel his fingers getting tired as he looked over the edge of the bridge. "Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan, you're stupid. Look at yourself. Look at where you are right now."

He looked at his surroundings, even though it was so dark outside that he couldn't see more than ten or so feet in front of him. His car was parked somewhere off in the distance. The end of the bridge was somewhere off half a mile into the night, and he didn't really mind that he couldn't see the rest of it. He looked up, into the clouds that were forming and the stars that were slowly becoming enveloped. He looked down. The river was starting to speed up. He could see rain in the distance.

He shut his eyes for a moment. He could see in front of him the ugly, stained walls of a gas station bathroom that he stopped in halfway to Missouri when he was close to eleven. Someone had written in black Sharpie, "Suicide victims are just angels that want to go back home," and he scoffed. Yeah, fucking right. He'd be going to hell and he  _knew_ it, what with the pictures he took that one  _fucking_ night and sleeping with another man and probably a shitload of other things in between -- if he was any angel, he'd be the angel in Steve Harrington's dreams. 

"Okay Byers," he said, shutting his eyes tight and white-knuckling the railing. "Pussy, come on, do it," he whimpered again, feeling his lips start to quiver and his cheeks burn, and all of a sudden he was crying harder than he ever has. His lungs hurt, his head hurt, his hands hurt, his feet hurt, his heart hurt so bad, and he just wanted it to stop. Was it so wrong? 

His eyes opened when he heard something louder than the crickets. 

Jonathan whipped his head around and locked eyes with the fucker himself. 

"Jonathan, Jonathan, Jesus fucking Christ-" he said, his hair falling into his  _stupid_ fucking face, wearing the same hoodie he gave back to him, and the pair of jeans that Jonathan said were his favorite on him -- he looked so beautiful, he could cry on the spot. As if he wasn't already crying.

"Fuck  _off,_ Harrington," He said, turning his head away and staring back down at the river. He could do it now. He could jump and just do it  _right fucking now_ if he wasn't so much of a goddamn pussy --

"Jonathan, I swear to god, get down off the damn bridge," 

Jonathan refused to look at him. He could hear his footsteps getting closer and they were hitting the ground hard -- he was sprinting to get to where he was. God, if he could just fucking leave, he doesn't even like looking at his face, he couldn't  _fucking_ handle it -- "Go away, God,  _please,_ Steve," he cried, hands somehow tightening even harder onto the railing. "I'm begging you, please just  _fucking_ leave, please, God,"

He could hear Steve's footsteps hit asphalt instead of dirt. And then they stopped. And it was silent, for a moment.

"I'm not leaving, Jonny," he said. He said  _Jonny._ He called him that the night before, too, when they were in his car making out and he told him he  _loved_ him and then he went and said  _I need a break --_

Jonathan loosened his grip the smallest bit. "Please, Steve, just leave," he whimpered. He couldn't manage to yell anymore. He was too tired to yell.

"Jonathan, please, I'm sorry," Steve said, his voice hardly audible over the rain that was starting to fall closer to the two. "I was overthinking. I was getting scared. It's been four months and Jesus Christ, Jon, I didn't think I could fall that fast, and- and- I didn't mean it, I was going to take it back immediately after but then I saw the look in your eyes and I knew I fucked up, and then you walked away, and- and- and I tried telling you after school but I couldn't find you and then I saw you smoking out of your window and I knew I had fucked up even worse. I know you hate the smell of cigarette smoke, Jon, and I know you hate the taste, and when I saw you after school I knew I fucked up and I take it all back, I swear to god I do, Jon. Every bit of it. I- I-" He rambled, walking a few steps closer to where Jonathan stood over the railing. Jonathan could feel his chest clenching and his breathing get short but heavy and he was getting lightheaded -- "And then I went to your house, Jonny," he continued, and Jonathan thinks he heard the other boy start to cry.

"I went to your house, and your mom said you had to pick up a late shift at the theater but she should know you don't ever  _ever_ work on Friday nights, Jon, even if they call you in because you always tell me how you hate your bosses and you'll never pick up on an off day, and- and," Jonathan could tell he was really crying, now. He still didn't want to look at him, because he knew he'd cry too and he's just so tired, he doesn't think he has it in him to cry any more -- but he gave in.

He kept going. "I came straight here, baby, I was scared I'd be too late and I didn't even know what you were doing but I had this terrible feeling in my gut and oh my god, Jonathan,  _please,_ I'm sorry, please, Jon," He cried, and Jonathan didn't know what to say. He stared at him for a moment, mouth unable to move, tears spilling down his cheeks but he was so numb at this point he couldn't feel them -- he shifted his gaze to the river beneath him, getting soaked up in white. In that moment he felt his heart drop into his stomach and he scrambled to get back over the ledge.

Steve ran to the edge of the bridge to meet him, grabbing his arms and pulling him over while Jonathan pushed with the strength he had left. The moment his feet were over the railing, Steve fell back, collapsing them onto the asphalt beneath them, but Jonathan couldn't feel a damn thing. He could sense the pressure around his chest of Steve's arms wrapping around him, and his forehead resting on his shoulder.

Jonathan slowly leaned into the embrace, realizing that what he thought was gone was being given back so graciously to him -- Steve's scent of sandalwood and laundry detergent and expensive cologne that he had grown a liking to, the way that he always puts his right arm over his left on his back, engulfing him, the way that he holds the back of his head and pets his hair and just makes him feel safe. He feels safe. He feels warm and safe.

"You're okay, Jonny," he says, whispering into the nape of his neck. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, you hear me? I ever say some  _stupid_ shit like that again and you backhand me. I'm right here," he kept repeating. He was there. Jonathan was too tired to rasp anything else. Steve was back. They were fine. 

Steve hefted the two up from laying on the ground, and they sat there while sprinkles of rain started to fall. Jonathan wrapped his arm around him, like he used to, digging his hand into Steve's shirt -- it's quiet, besides the rain now tapping on the asphalt. 

"You're okay, you're okay..." Steve keeps repeating, rubbing his back and rocking them back and forth. Jonathan doesn't know what to do other than cry because he thought this would be gone forever. He thought Steve would never speak to him again, look at him, say his name -- nothing. He didn't want to give it up. So he sits there in Steve's arms and he cries, but it's okay, because Steve lets him cry. He says, "It's okay, baby, you're fine, okay?" and he holds him, and they sit there, and Jonathan takes it all in.

He finally musters the strength to say something. "I-wa _uhh,"_ he stutters, words trailing of into nothing as he regains the thought process to speak. "I wanna... I wanna go home." 

Steve pulls away from their embrace for a moment and stares at him. "You wanna go home?" He repeats, and Jonathan nods.

"With you."

"Oh," Steve says, a smile on his face erupting. One of his stupid smiles that Jonathan loved so much. It made him smile a little, too. Steve giggled a little bit, starting to pull the both of them up. "Okay," he says "you know my bed always has room for two, Jonny."

"I just wanna go to sleep." He whispered, pulling himself up behind Steve, but still relying on him to lead them back to his car. 

"I can do that. We'll go home and I'll make you some soup or something and then we can sleep, okay? You need to warm up."

Steve was always so caring. Jonathan loved that a little too much. Thirty minutes ago he was hanging off a railing and called him a stupid motherfucker. Now, he's too tired to truly form coherent sentences, so he just says, "..Okay, okay, sleep though.." and Steve just nods.

They settle into the front seats of Steve's car, and before Steve turns the ignition, he places his hand on Jonathan's jawline. He places a small kiss on his forehead, then another peck on his lips, and lets them sit in the silence for a minute or two. "I love you, Jonathan. I really do."

Even with no strength, Jonathan feels his heart melt in one go. 

"I love you...too."

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> how do you feel!!! are you satisfied!!!! wowie!!!! i cried a lot while writing it and i hope you cried while reading it!!! comments are greatly appreciated please, validate,,,me


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